Sacrifices
by Lizzleby
Summary: Bumblebee is visited by some ghosts of his past while being held captive in the Hoover Dam. Spoilers for "Transformers: The Movie" and "Transformers: The Movie Prequel." Ficlet; Oneshot.


**A/N:** This is just a little drabble from Bumblebee's POV while he's being held captive at Hoover Dam from "Transformers: The Movie." It makes a HUGE reference to "Transformers: The Movie Prequel," so if you haven't read it yet, and don't want anything spoiled, turn back now. It's only a little over 2,000 words, and I wrote it last night at, like... 3 in the morning. x.x I'm also pretty sure I'm horrible at keeping characters in-character, so please forgive any OoC-ness.

Also: I spell "Allspark" as one word. The movies broke it up into two, but it's supposed to be one.

Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome; flames will be laughed at before being deleted.

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Panic seized my processor as a crushing cold swept over and through me. I felt my systems grow sluggish and begin to shut down as my body started entering cryostasis. Desperately, I looked to Sam for help, struggling to speak even though I knew I could not form actual words. To my relief, he broke free of the human servos restraining him and came to my aid, snatching the nearest nozzle from one of the humans I knew were called 'government agents.' In a very Sam-like way, he turned it on that human, but the action left him open to be restrained again.

As they dragged him away, the hope that had jumped to life in my chest flickered and died.

It was like a memory glitch—like being back in Tyger Pax on Cybertron. Except this…this was so much worse. This time, I couldn't fight for myself, for my freedom. The humans, the ones we aren't allowed to harm, were the ones restraining me. Freezing me. Not like before, when the wretched leader of the Decepticons had had his hold on me. No, this time, it felt worse, in so many ways, than being at the servos of one of the most terrifying mechs in all of Cybertronian history. I could only watch as they took Sam and Mikaela away, and wait as, helpless to do anything to stop it, my circuitry and processor shut down.

Just before I went offline, I had time to wonder why my comrades were leaving me behind.

***

Pain shot through my sensors. I cried out and struggled against my bonds, against the situation. Pain seared through me again. I redoubled my efforts, but another flash of white-hot agony had me slumping back on the surface I was sprawled over. I willed it to stop.

My senses seemed to be scrambled; I couldn't assess the situation. I couldn't grasp reality. I don't know how much time passed, but, eventually, after enduring increasingly painful tests, I offlined again.

***

A reprieve came. I came back online, and I could only deduce that it was because I was no longer enduring an onslaught of…torture from the humans. The room was rather dark except for the bright light over me, and only a few of them remained in the room. Standing guard, it seemed, though only one of them was not in stasis.

Checking my internal chronometer, I was somewhat surprised to realize I had only been here for a less than one orbital cycle. Then I did a quick scan of the room, figuring out just how big it was, what objects were in it and where the exits were. The ceiling was high, but the surface I was strapped to took up most of the floor. Everything, save for the machines, seemed to be made of concrete.

Enjoying the silence and stillness, temporary though they were, I tried to contact Optimus. However, I heard nothing but static; my comm link had either been damaged by the humans' experiments, or I was in a place specifically designed to block my signal.

As something I associated with panic crept into my processor, I gave a tug of my right arm. My shoulder plates lifted up a bit, but my wrist did not budge. I tugged harder. Still it remained immobile, though this time a few sensors in by shoulder and back protested at the angle.

Unwilling to put myself through anymore pain, I ceased my attempts. Obviously, the humans knew enough about me—about my kind—to be able to effectively hold us down.

A few breems passed in continued silence. I began to wonder how long this would last. Surely not much longer… Humans had kindness in them, this I knew firsthand, but they could also be just as ruthless as Decepticons. They treated any kind of alien _anything_ with hostility, and, as I had just found out, would do whatever it took to gain the answers to their questions.

I realized just how similar they were to us Cybertronians, and I felt myself give a small shudder. Hopefully their planet would not meet the same end as ours…

I forced this train of thought to a halt, and instead began to think about Optimus and the others. I remembered the last thought I'd had under the bridge, and I felt ashamed of it. I was upset with them, yes, but at the same time I knew that they could not harm humans or sacrifice themselves for me. I was willing to put up with this for a few orbital cycles, even a few Earth weeks, but I didn't think I could stand it much longer than that. If they failed to come for me before then…

Again, I found myself heading off this thought, redirecting it somewhere more pleasant.

Or trying to, at least.

Having lain on this table for an unknown period of time, my doorwings were beginning to protest to the cramped position they were in. My shoulder and hip joints were also starting to ache from having remained strained and stationary for so long. This, coupled with my anxiety at probably having to face more pain, made it difficult indeed to find something pleasant to think about. After all, I could only spend so long convincing myself that my comrades would rescue me.

Unbidden, thoughts and memories rose to the surface of my processor. It was unnerving just how closely the human race resembled my own, and I couldn't help but worry that they would be just as foolish. They did not have an Allspark, nor anything like it, but with how their technology was advancing, I would not have been surprised if they managed to create and all-powerful object. As it was, they were fighting wars all over the planet, struggling for power over resources necessary to their survival—for power in general. Humans wanted to control other humans, and I could not understand why.

I felt myself shudder again, but I could not tear myself from the path my thoughts were wandering.

I began to analyze what would happen if their wars escalated. They had created what they called nuclear weapons, and it seemed almost every remotely powerful country had some. If tensions and hostilities rose, enough nuclear weapons could be unleashed to completely destroy the planet. The radiation and heat these bombs caused would reach levels high enough to ignite the very atmosphere. The planetary temperature skyrocketing would quickly kill anyone who managed to survive the explosions. And with the protective layer gone, solar winds and rays from Earth's source of life, the Sun, would ravage the globe. The whole world would become a wasteland…exactly like Cybertron.

My thoughts turned now to my homeland, and the war that had brought about its downfall. Megatron's desire for power had gone unchecked, and slowly, he'd built up an army. When they struck, intending to seize the Allspark and use it to control the universe, Autobots who had never seen a nanoklik of violence were forced to take down their brethren to defend themselves and the Allspark. Many lives were lost; it was only in a last-ditch effort that the cube was kept from Megatron's clutches.

I offlined my optics, trying to shut out the images that I was seeing. Arcee and I had been two of the few involved in the battle at Tyger Pax, and we had been captured. Restrained in much the same way I was restrained now. Forced to watch our teammates be tortured for information they did not have.

Megatron had known that I held more information in my processor than anyone else on my team. He questioned me, ripped my right arm from my body, and when I still did not cooperate, he crushed my voice capacitor. My arm was fixable, but my voice capacitor was not.

The only reason I had not offlined forever at the hands of the Decepticon leader was because of his desperation to have the Allspark. He was not concerned with killing me, only with pursuing it. So he left Arcee and I, and we were found by our comrades.

Even as I fought against it, a single thought came to the forefront of my processor: What damage would I have to take this time before Optimus and the others came for me?

I shook my head, making a noise of protest that sounded a lot like a bunch of static. Vaguely I noticed that it had shaken awake two of the sleeping guards. I sensed them raise their nozzles—the ones I knew held liquid nitrogen—but when I did nothing else, they relaxed.

Determined not to doubt my teammates—my _friends_—I forced myself to run a physical scan. I found that the humans had not done much too me; they hadn't even damaged my comm link (I decidedly ignored the thought that followed, not liking the idea of being specifically imprisoned). Mostly, they'd poked and prodded at my internal workings, no doubt to figure out just how I was a self-aware being, to see the extent of my weapons, and to see if they could figure out just how my kind made our drastic transformations.

Satisfied that no permanent damage had been done, I allowed myself to slip into stasis.

***

When I found myself coming out of stasis, it was to that horrible energon-chilling cold that left me paralyzed. I groaned automatically, my broken vocal processor distorting the sound, and I heard several humans shout in alarm. The cold seeped in faster, and I knew more of them were spraying me with liquid nitrogen, terrified that I would hurt them now that I was awake. Feebly, I tried to move my arms. I was vaguely aware of the fact that I was no longer restrained, but the cold had now seeped in so deep that my joints were freezing. I couldn't move, despite the fact that I desperately wanted to.

Just as I was about to offline again, I heard a familiar voice shouting. I was unaware of what words they were saying, but they had a wonderful effect: the steady spray that was freezing me stopped. Internal heating systems kicked in, and in less than one klik I was perfectly alright again.

Immediately, I went into defensive mode. I sat up, battle mask covering my face. My right arm transformed into a cannon. I pointed it around me at random, not realizing at first where I was. And even once I did remember, I didn't stop aiming from one human to the next. For a few awful moments, I felt the urge to kill them. I understood, in those dark seconds, why the Decepticons hated them so much, why they could so easily extinguish their lives.

But as quickly as the anger came, it ebbed and subsided, leaving me feeling sick with myself, despite the absence of a human stomach in my body. My audio receptors picked up Sam's voice, and though I did not lower my weapon or retract my battle mask, I looked at him and tuned in to his words.

"—Cube is here, the Decepticons are coming," he said, clearly finishing a sentence.

I began to stand, still pointing my cannon. Energon rushed through me; I'd caught enough to know what Sam was talking about.

"Don't worry about them, they're okay. Alright?"

I looked to the boy, and understood that he thought I was still threatening the other humans. He turned to some behind him and told them to back up; they did, and that, more than anything, drove me back to my senses. I did not like the sight of humans retreating from me in fear.

"Okay, c'mon, put the guns down; they're not gonna hurt you," he said, looking back up at me. "Come with me, we're gonna take you to the Allspark."

The fact that it was Sam who rescued me warmed my spark and made me resolve to do everything in my power to keep Megatron from getting the Allspark. It wasn't just the fate of the Autobots or Cybertron on the line; the human race—the whole universe—was at stake.

Raising my battle mask and changing my cannon back into a regular right arm and servo, I nodded at the boy and followed him from the room. I knew, as I crossed the threshold, that I was stepping into the war to protect my new home.


End file.
